


It's Just a First Impression

by StrongerThanAnySword



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, First Impressions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrongerThanAnySword/pseuds/StrongerThanAnySword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First impressions can say a lot about another person...and sometimes, they can be entirely wrong (or not).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teeny-Tiny

Marianne didn't see what the fuss was all about.  Certainly, the thing now squirming around in her mother's limply tired arms wasn't what she had been expecting, waiting for through so many months.  She had been told there was a  _baby_ in her momma's tummy not this screeching, red-faced little goblin.  For that, she had decided, is what it must be; all the Fairy babies she had ever seen in court--the Elfen ones she had seen on excursions with her momma and poppa too, in fact--had been smiling, giggling, cooing little chubby-cheeked creatures wrapped in linens, or sleeping, or crying...but  _gently_ , and she could move away from them and smile at the people who  _did_ want to see her.  This little  _thing_ made her ears hurt and her new wings flutter and shift uneasily, apparently just as jumpy as she was around the screeching baby.

"Marianne."  Her momma smiled, and her eyes were half-lidded.  She sounded tired, and Marianne could see from the way she reached up to accept a bottle from the orderly that she was indeed quite worn out; anothre reason to dislike the tiny intruder.  Her momma was _never_ this tired when it was just Marianne.  "Would you like to hold her?"

Marianne made a face and shook her head, shifting back to half-hide behind her poppa's leg.  Poppa, for his part, had been sniffling since he had come to fetch her, and that decided things for Marianne: anything that made her poppa cry  _had_ to be a nasty scary goblin.  

"Now, Mari," he said softly, the calming timbre of his voice and the gentle arm wrapped around her shoulders as he knelt beside her calming the tension in her wings.  "This is your new baby sister.  Her name is Dawn."  Again, Marianne made a face.  While it wasn't as good as her own name, solid and strong, it was a pretty good one, and her momma and poppa had wasted it on  _that._

Though, now that she looked up again, she noted a hugely relieved huff that the little thing wasn't screaming any more.  Bottle's nub in her mouth, the baby seemed to have settled in for the long term, and Marianne supposed grumpily to herself that her parents wouldn't be taking her back or returning her or whichever.  At least not any time soon, not by the way her momma was looking down at it, a special look that had once been reserved for Marianne alone.  

"Do you want to see?"  Her poppa's soft, warm breath ghosted over her ear and she looked up at him, a frown on her lips and a crease between her eyebrows.  He, too, was looking up, though his hands were on his knees so he could bend to talk to her, looking straight at her momma and the little creature in her arms with the same love he used to look at Marianne.  She huffed and crossed her arms, but nodded.  Anything that tried to take her momma and poppa away from her was in for a fight!

Chuckling softly, her poppa shifted closer, and Marianne was only slightly surprised when he picked her up by her elbows and carefully deposited her on the bed, turning her to sit up against the pillows with her momma, the baby practically in her own lap.  Too close, Marianne thought, but then she looked down at Dawn and-

 _Oh_ , her eyes were blue like the summer sky.  Dawn stared up at them, suckling at the bottle, and it was hard not to imagine that she was studying her new momma and sister very seriously indeed.  When Marianne shifted a little closer to stare, the baby kicked her feet, and Marianne jumped back to her place against the pillows, eyeing her.

Momma and poppa laughed, their calming tones mixing together to wash over Marianne, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she leaned forward again to investigate the baby.  She wasn't  _entirely_ scary, Marianne admitted, skeptical.  Just a little squished.

"Why doesn't she have no hair?" she asked with a slight frown, looking up at her momma.  Was the little thing broken somehow?  Her momma laughed again.

"It will grow," she said fondly.  "You didn't have hair when you were born, either."  Marianne's eyes widened to the size of teacups.  No hair??  She peeked up at the chestnut-wood hair on her head.  She couldn't imagine life without it.  

"She has just a little bit," her momma was saying, twisting slightly to show Marianne the top of the baby's head.  She slowly reached out and ran her fingers over it.  Her momma was right: there was only a very little bit there.  It was more like the fuzz on a peach than it was like momma's or poppa's or Marianne's own hair, and it was pale and indistinct, not like the rich browns of Marianne's hair and her poppa's hair.  It was a little more like her momma's hair--Marianne briefly envied the baby--but she supposed that, in time, the baby's hair would get long and brown and that would be that.  Slowly, Marianne's eyes inched down, and she blinked in surprise at the baby's hands.

"She's little," Marianne whispered, suddenly afraid to make too much noise, as if speaking too loudly would break her.  When she reached out a hand to skate her finger over one little fist, she was surprised to see it open up and wrap around said finger.  Marianne grinned and glanced at the baby--eyes half-lidded, suckling slowing down--before looking up at her momma, excited.  "She likes me!"

"She sure does."  Momma smiled again, as tired as the baby looked, and raised her head to smile at poppa when the bed dipped slightly as he settled his weight in at her hip.  "She'll like you more and more the older you get, Mari.  You'll look out for her the way only a big sister can, and she will be your friend and playmate.  You will have all kinds of little secrets and shares between you, just the two of you."  Momma ducked to press a kiss to the top of Marianne's hair.

"We're gonna keep her?"  Marianne looked up and was so resigned in her tone, but her heart did a happy little flip.  All of what momma had said sounded pretty okay.

Momma and poppa laughed again.  "Yes, dear one," her father said chuckling and ruffling her hair.  "We're going to keep her."

"Oh."  Marianne snuggled into her momma's side, gratified when she lifted one arm to wrap around Marianne.  "I guess that's okay."  She stared at the baby, wondering how soon it would be until they could begin to play with her.  "Dawn," she said, a huge yawn escaping her as she snuggled into her momma again.  "Dawn."  She slowly drifted off, still watching the baby as  _she_ fell asleep, and soon the King was standing to press one quick kiss on each of his three sleeping girls and slip quietly out of the room.


	2. You are my Sun-Shine

It was one week after the funeral.

Dawn saw him in the distance over the heads of the courtiers and curious Elves, dancing and singing, and knew, immediately, that she had to make a fuss.  So she did.

"What is it?" her Poppa asked, shifting her in his arms.  "What's wrong?"  Around them, the whispers began immediately.  

"She misses the Queen, breezes bless her."

"Poor thing."

"Poor dears."

"I can't imagine..."

Dawn didn't know that they were talking about her Momma; she didn't know that the whispers were directed at her at all.  All she knew was that the small Elf standing perhaps twenty feet away was important, that she must talk to him, that she was _going_ to speak with him, and that that was that.

"What is it, Dawn?"  Marianne looked up at her, one hand held loosely in her Poppa's, watered-down eyes pinching in confusion.

Dawn, in response, made grabby hands at the Elf.

The King sighed and put his daughter down.  "Marianne, please, look after her for a moment.  I need to speak with the Head Elf, and then we can go."

Marianne nodded to their Poppa, but when she looked for her sister, she was already walking toward the young Elf (who, frozen mid-dance, looked like a bee caught in the were-lights) with purpose and a stubborn face.

"Dawn, wait!"

Dawn didn't hear, or gave no indication that she did.  Instead, she stopped in front of the Elf, who was just slightly over her height (not counting his very tall hair).  She crossed her arms and gave a mighty pout.

"Hi?" the young Elf tried, his voice coming out in a kind-of-squeak.

Dawn was busy pouting.

Marianne caught up, panting.  "Dawn!"

"Sing more, Elf!"  Dawn commanded, no question in her mind that he would comply even as Marianne gave a scandalized gasp.  She  _was_ a princess, after all.

"My name's not Elf!" the youngster said, sounding irate, taking a stance as equally stubborn as Dawn's, his arms crossing too.  "It's Sunny!"

"Sing more!" Dawn repeated, not at all deterred.

"Dawn," Marianne hissed, standing between them and glaring at her sister.  "You can't just call people  _Elf_."

"He is, though!"

"It's rude!"  Marianne, in her black clothing and wearing that glare, looked like a stormcloud.  "Apologize to...to..."

"Sunny," came the muffled yet helpful supply from behind Marianne.  "My name is Sunny."

"Sunny, then," Marianne said, stepping back.  "Apologize to him, Dawn, or I'm telling!"

There wasn't a question who she would go to, any more.

Dawn's lip quivered, eyes filling with tears as the recent and tender wound was prodded.  She sniffled and looked up at Sunny.

"I'm s-sorry," she whispered, sniffling again and giving a small hiccup.  "I d-didn't mean to."

"It's okay!"  Sunny put up his hands and smiled, clearly hoping to stave off tears, and with his gleaming white teeth set in sun-browned skin below rich brown eyes, he looked like his namesake, shining brightly.  "Really."  He stepped forward and hugged her, and Dawn hugged him back.  Marianne scowled and folded her arms before her, but she was fighting a smile as Sunny began to hum.

Dawn was too busy closing her eyes as she soaked in the comforting song and holding onto her new friend to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this one was rough. I imagine I'll polish it more because I'm still not entirely happy with it, but this fic has gone long enough without an update! :)


	3. Gleaming Green Carapace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunny meets Roland.

The new Captain of the Guard had Sunny squirming.

Not a pleasant squirm, the way he sometimes shuffled and blushed when he saw Dawn coming (though why he was embarrassed, he'd never admit).  Nor a keeping-up-appearances-for-a-long-time squirm, the way Sunny sometimes had to shift his weight after standing up very straight for a very long time when the King was near (though King Dagda knew very well that Dawn and he were friends, Sunny got the feeling he didn't quite approve; he stood extra-straight when the King was near, always trying to make a good impression).  This was something...different, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

He shuffled slightly, a minor relief as the Captain's ceremony dragged on.

Heaving a relieved sigh and stretching when the ceremony finally concluded, Sunny was ducking through the crowd and hurrying off to find Dawn, leaving the new Captain Roland and most of the spectators behind.  Still, his thoughts lingered on the Faerie.  

Something wasn't quite...right.  His gaze frequently wandered to Marianne, and now that he was Captain, it wasn't impossible for them to marry.  Though Sunny did feel a protectiveness toward Marianne, he thought that if he could just see proof that Roland was in love with her, he could be okay with the new Captain pursuing her--respectfully, of course--as Sunny had had a feeling he would do for a year or so.  And yet...

Sunny shook his head, trying to put it out of his mind.  Marianne was a smart person, she could take care of herself.  Besides, nothing said that Roland  _had_ to be of a mind to pursue her.  He was probably just overthinking things; he'd never met Roland himself, so who knew?  Maybe he would be great for Marianne, or maybe he had no interest.  Satisfied with that thought, Sunny broke into a jog, humming to himself.  Dawn had asked to see him--something about fixing the hem on her dress--and he didn't want to keep her waiting.  Humming, he rounded a corner in the palace, looking up from the floor to see-

Suddenly from around the corner, a flash of green, a shouted "hey!", and one collision happened in quick succession, leaving Sunny smarting and out of breath from whomever had fallen on top of him.

"What do you think you were doing?!" a voice hissed, the weight on Sunny shifting and then disappearing, allowing him to roll onto his back and look up, dazed.

He was looking up at the face of the new Captain of the Guard.

His jaw dropped and he scooted back slightly, trying to find his footing.  "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, averting his eyes and bowing his head just slightly--the Captain was barely part of the Court, but part of the Court nonetheless.  The Captain, however, was not put off by his apology.

 _"You_ need to  _watch where you are going, **Elf,**_ " Roland spat, stabbing Sunny in the chest with one armored finger so hard that Sunny staggered back.  He looked up, shocked both at the physical contact and the caustic tone, mouth hanging open once more.  "Focus on who else is in the hallways and not on the ground or the dirt or whatever it is that typically holds your interest!"

Sunny wrestled with his anger, holding it back and bowing his head once more, sticking to the most courtesy he could possibly muster.  In the back of his mind, he heard a much-younger Marianne explaining to Dawn,  _"you can't do that; it's very rude to refer to someone you don't know well by only their Fae tribe",_ and he had to bite his tongue not to say any of the dozen things, ranging from apologies to insults, that were dancing on his tongue.

"Of course," he managed, "I'm truly sorry."  

The Captain-- _Roland_ \--harrumphed.  "You'd better be."  Then he was stalking down the hall, green armor glinting like that of some overgrown dung beetle's.

Sunny stared after him until he was gone, then a while longer before he started walking again, mind clouded.

"Where were you?" Dawn asked, looking up from where she sat at her vanity.  She was clearly pleased to see him, not at all irritated by his lateness, and stepping into her chambers was like stepping into the sunlight.

All the same, discontent--hurt--curdled in his stomach.

"Just...bumped into someone," he mumbled.

"Oh?"  Dawn's clear blue eyes were on him, looking worried.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."  Sunny forced a smile, forced the incident to the back of his mind.  "I'm just sorry to be late!  Now..."  He grinned wider and cracked his knuckles.  "Show me where that frayed hem is!"

"Thank you Sunny!"  Dawn bounced up and half-flew to her wardrobe, digging around before stepping into it entirely.

Sunny sat on a low footstool, waiting for her to emerge, his chin propped up in his hand, the new Captain of the Guard weighing on his mind more heavily than ever.


End file.
